Highlights of 2014

     Almost Good Bye to 2014!

In trying to remember anything memorable that pops out of this past year; I draw a blank. But, I haven't even finished my first cup of tea yet, so, maybe I'm still waking up for the day.

This past year, we gained a dog.

We spent months cooped up in the house due to the coldest temps I can ever remember, and because of 2 months of non stop sickness and/or school closings and/or school breaks.

We flew kites and had a picnic dinner for Easter

We all tried lobster for the 4th of July. It was pretty traumatic. Followed by a magical evening with good friends and thier kids, atop a bank overlooking a river in Olean, as we watched fireworks.

We were in the ER a LOT for various things.

Because of staples in his head, George's breathing problems really came to light which:

Ended us in Children's hospital for adenoid surgery. It took weeks for the poor kid to fully recover.

Our last kid began school. Also traumatic. For me, anyway.

I made 3 different kinds of jams/preserves AND canned them. Not very graciously, but, I did it!

Made my own applesauce and laundry soap. The soap caused a flood it the laundry room, and colorful language from Bearded Man.

The house finally got painted!

I did my first 5K and RAN!

I lost 25 pounds, walked every morning for several months, joined a local Zumba class and loved it!

We lost Bearded Man's mother.

Joe collected and donated money to the local food pantry.

We joined a different church parish, and have really found our niche there

I became (Probably the world's worst) Sunday School teacher.

Lexi has finally been able to indulge her inner mermaid, by joining the school swim team.

Joe has made it through another year without starving to death.

Kaila bacame a teenager.

Bearded Man has a new job.

I am closing out the year with starting a new second job!

One of my sisters got married.

One of my brother's got married.

My Dad was in and out of the hospital a lot.

We took the kids to see a Monster Truck show. They hated it.

Discovered there was a second lein on our house; which no one could find, and no one could discharge. Faced possible forclosure over a lein that was, for all intents and purposes non existant. It took the better part of the year and exhaustive notes, searching, phone calls and persistance, but, I got it all cleared up by Thanksgiving! ON MY OWN, after an arrogant attorney informed me this could take years and thousands of dollars, and that I would never be able to afford to clear it, OR do it on my own. BIG score!

Laughed a lot, cried a lot, prayed a lot.

I don't usually make New Year's resolutions. I suppose there are some things I would like to improve upon, but, honestly, I have enough to deal with every day, without the guilt of impossible resolutions.

Sort of glad to see 2014 come to a close! Here's hoping for a better, brighter, happier 2015!

Stay safe!

Bailey's for Breakfast

     Another Christmas, come and gone. And, due to the murky possibilities the near future may bring; the decorations are down and put away for another year. It was sad, to have all signs of Christmas gone, less than 24 hours after the day was over. It was also something of a relief. This was a rough holiday season.


     Christmas Eve and Christmas turned out to be seriously nice days, even without the traditional snow around here. It really felt more like Easter. And, if the weather would like to stay this way indefinitely, I will be completely okay with it.

     Christmas Eve dawned with me whipping up Homemade Bailey's Irish Cream, to be given at my parent's and to a few close friends. After making several pints, there was a few shots leftover, which, without real thought, I poured over ice and sipped, while talking on the phone for 45 minutes. I honestly didn't put much thought into it until I stood up after I hung the phone up. Good Morning! Moriah is sloshed. Nice.
     Shortly after that, my friend Sue's husband stopped over with her traditional Christmas Eve offering of homemade Syllabub. I handed him a pint of Bailey's, as I happily spooned more alcohol into my system. I observed from my happy haze that, I had finally found a good use for the boxes and boxes and boxes of mason jars that Bearded Man had presented me with all summer. I could probably be completely happy canning alcohol. That being said: Bearded Man and the kids were invited by a neighbor yesterday, to go pick carrots from her garden. They came home with a whole bushel of carrots. I imagine that tomorrow, the last of my 5 days off from work, will be spent peeling, chopping, blanching and freezing carrots.
     I told Bearded Man that it could be a fun project for he and the kids to do, while I work this week, and they are at home. But, Bearded Man has a head cold. The most horrible, miserable, terrible, awful head cold EVER in the history of head colds. If the moans, constant sleeping, hacking all over the house, while whimpering how it hurts to: open his eyes, move his eyes, blow his nose, turn his head. We have heard about the color of mucus, is it normal to feel this way? He has never ever felt this way, cannot smell, cannot hear... I don't think Bearded Man will be with us much longer. Which would free up considerable space on the couch, and we will never ever have to watch WWE or the History or Discovery channels again. Trying to stay positive and all that.

     Anyway, back to sloshed Moriah on Christmas Eve morning: I was respectfully sober and alert, when we wandered to church for the annual Christmas Eve pageant before Mass. Now that I am one of the Sunday School teachers, I was sort of obligated to assist with this. Which involved telling the children to arrive at least half an hour early, spending 5 minutes getting them into costume, and 25 minutes wrangling them. 19 children. On Christmas Eve. For 25 minutes. At no point in my life have I ever thought I was heaven bound. However, that had to count for something. I spent most of the 25 minutes between a camel and a cow (called "Camel!" and "Cow!" because I had no idea what their names were), trying to keep them from beating the ever living daylights out of each other. My two biggest accomplishments of Christmas Eve were: NOT being tipsy during the Christmas Eve pageant, and, making sure the camel and the cow weren't placed anywhere near each other during the alter portion of the pageant.
     I am also happy to report that George and Lexi, as Mary and Joseph, from what I could see, behaved beautifully during the proceedings. I wasn't paying too much attention, because, I noticed almost too late that there were lit candles in all the church windows, and I was standing in front of them, while we directed children. I was THIS close to being on fire several times. Memories and stuff.

     Christmas morning dawned, and, snow or no snow, Santa managed to make it here. He even left George presents, after George took several bites out of Santa's cookies. There is a picture of George in the local paper, sitting on Santa's lap. The story behind it being: George had insisted we find a Santa, as he needed to explain that he was on the naughty list, but felt that he had done enough good to be moved onto the nice list. The subject never came up, however, so, he was sweating it out right till the very end.
     We spent the afternoon at my parent's, and several of my brothers were able to make it too. It was a nice afternoon, and the kids were completely exhausted by the end of things.

     The day after Christmas, I stepped on a scale. And was horrified to see I have gained back a little of the weight I worked so darn hard to lose all summer. So, back to working out for this chick! Turbo is so happy, to be going on the super long walks again.

     Speaking of Turbo: Monday is our one year anniversary that he has been with us! Honestly, I love that dog. When I come home from work every night, and everyone greets me with "What's for dinner??!!!"or the laundry list of grievances regarding school, each other, school projects that need to be done, snacks they need by tomorrow, reminders of swim practice/scout meetings.... and there is my dog, just happy to see me.
     I love my job. But, some days, it gets to me. In a day, I could have a suicidal patient, pedophiles, crying patients, angry patients, non compliant patients, PTSD, alcohol abuse, infected wounds, dementia, anxiety, terminal diagnosis, sleep patients, providers that need as much care and patience as the patients do, constant phone calls, emails.... the mental and emotional stress is a lot sometimes.
     So. On those days that I need a break, there is Turbo, the dog that was supposed to be Joe's, but I think ended up as mine. He is quiet, and loyal, and is near me almost always when I am at home. Sometimes, it's nice to snap the leash on him, and walk for miles and miles and clear the cobwebs out of my brain. Since getting Turbo, I have lost almost 25lbs, he's been great for stress relief for me, and made me honestly a better nurse, and I genuinely love that creature. I never thought I would be one of "Those" people, who adored their dogs, but, as much as I love Buster too, Turbo has kind of become my buddy. Sort of a therapy dog for me. And, I am so very very happy that somehow he landed here. I heard after we brought him home, that there was a very long list of people who wanted to adopt one of the rescued "Hannibal Huskies". I was not on the list. Within the first few months of having him, we fought over potty training, I literally caught pneumonia, standing outside with him day and night on a leash, during of the coldest winters I can ever recall. Like, EVER, and there were times I thought "Seriously. This isn't going to work" HA! Now I have this big fluffy beast that loves to snuggle in my lap just as much now, as he did when he was a baby. Who has also learned how to open the bathroom door, so he can be near me when I shower in the morning. He even lies on my feet while I get ready for work every day. Happy Anniversary to Turbo!

     Now that the holidays are winding down, I imagine we will be trying to get back into something of a routine around here. The kids are all pretty content with their Christmas gifts, and the nice weather to be able to play outside the last few days. It has really helped, not having the cabin fever that we had last year around this time! Hopefully everyone in the household doesn't catch Bearded Man's cold, and things can start to get back on track. Happy New Year, everyone! Celebrate safely!

Saying Goodbye to Bearded Man's Mama

     Today was the funeral service for Jasin's mother. It's been a crazy few weeks. Planning a funeral and holiday must-do's at the same time is surreal. Honestly. We did our usual traditional Pizza Hut and Christmas tree day. And then the kids and I went home, and Jasin met his brother and sister at his sister's church, to plan the service. Not going to lie. I am completely not into the holidays this year.

     Anyhow. We made it through the day, and I got to hug all my favorite cousin in laws. (If I  missed anybody, you're probably a favorite cousin in law too. There was a lot of hugs.)
     And, my kids all coordinated. I itched to reach for my phone to snap a picture of the four of them together, but I restrained myself. I spend enough time on the Internet to know that pictures taken at funerals end up on "Tacky funeral photo" sites, like Buzz Feed. I can only imagine the conversations.

     "OH. MY, GOD!!!! YOUR COUSIN'S CHRISTMAS CARD PICTURE WAS TAKEN AT YOUR AUNT'S FUNERAL!!!!!!! WHO. DOES. THAT???????" Or some such thing. It was so hard not to line them up and get a picture though. Not that they would have stood still long enough. The church hall is a converted barn, and sports a basketball hoop and wood floors. So, half the room was set up for luncheon, and the other half had children chucking balls at each other. My kids weren't going cooperate for a picture no matter how nicely they matched. 
     At the end of the day, Margie, my mother in law was grieved over, and her funeral is over. She is now sitting at Jasin's sister's home until we can bury her in the spring, I think. It didn't feel quite real to me, seeing a little box, that summed up a whole person. That's all you amount to, at the end. It was the first time I have attended a funeral that the remains were cremated. I suppose it isn't unusual. But, it takes some getting used to. We arrived at the church kitchen, and I was trying to ask politely where Margie was. How do you ask where a body is? It's much easier when there is a big casket draped with flowers. Think about it. HOW do you ask where a body is, without sounding all CSI?
     For those wondering: Margie was in a box on the counter. Jasin had built a box to put the remains in for now, thus the awkward moment of inquiring where she might be. I think she would have appreciated the day, as we poured over old pictures and family caught up with each other.

     It's been a rough few weeks for Bearded Man. This past week was his first official week as a laid off seasonal employee. The dishwasher has been fixed, there are new wooden wheels on the vacuum cleaner, and he built me a shelf for my spices. Not sure if there are enough projects to keep him occupied till April...

     With Christmas nearly upon us, George is  concerned. He admits  freely that he's pretty sure he's on the Naughty List up North. Not sure where he learned the word "deviant", but, he seems to think it might possibly refer to him. He has requested that we locate a Santa for him to visit, so he can discuss this in person. I can only imagine the conversation. In all reality he will probably clam up and find himself unable to talk, regretting it all and sweating out his present status until Christmas morning.
     I have it on good authority, however, that Santa has a soft spot for 4 year old boys who love to snuggle with their mamas. I think he'll make out okay.
     Most Christmases we stay home and just Veg. However, this year we are going to my parent's. "Tell Joe we are having pizza! He will be so happy he can eat Christmas dinner this year!" announced my mother.
     "Yes. He will likely be starving. We are torturing him with a ham dinner on Christmas Eve." I replied.

     Also, one last note, my dog is in big trouble with the next door neighbor. It seems Turbo, my husky, and Rugar, the hound dog next door, have become best friends. Rugar was a puppy this summer, when the neighbor adopted him. From day one, the two dogs have been inseparable. They try to play between fences, and try their darnedest to get into each other's yard to play. Which bothers us not at all, but, the neighbor just cannot deal with it.
     The latest trick of the dogs, is for Rugar to climb as far up the fence as he can get, and then Turbo gently lifts him over by the back of the neck with his mouth. The neighbor is LIVID. "YOUR dog is BITING my dog's neck! He is going to hurt him!" I could point out that his dog LIKES it, and that the two of them do this every time they can. But, then the neighbor will remind me of his heart condition. It's much easier to chuck his dog back over the fence before the neighbor (and his heart condition) notice. No, I am not putting my dog on a run, as per the neighbor's request. I suspect that, as much as this does not bother us, nor the dogs, it is going to cause issues with the neighbor. Ah well. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, I suppose.

     I'm off now. I need to bake cookies for my Sunday School Christmas party tomorrow. I will have precisely one student for this shindig. It promises to be awkward for the poor girl, as we try to figure out fun things to do with one kid for an hour and a half. Because, in all honesty, I have not had time to put together a whole lot this week. Perhaps a small lesson in offering up suffering for the Lord, may be appropriate....
    
   

The Dick's Get a Christmas Tree.

     This past weekend was full of all things Christmas stuff, and some funeral stuff. All the the tune of a Buffalo radio station that proudly plays all Christmas songs 24/7 beginning shortly after Halloween, and lasting till approximately the time everyone sits down to Christmas dinner. I discovered this weekend that, that particular radio station has approximately 2 Christmas Cd's that they just put on repeat.
     All of this was because no one could remember which cable channel the Christmas music was on, and also, no one could find the batteries to the remote, to scroll thru 4 million stations to find it.

     Anyway, The Dick Family Tradition of Pizza Hut and a Christmas tree continued this year. It had been raining most of the morning before we went out, so, we slopped around the muddy tree lot, as the kids all screamed "THIS is the PERFECT TREE!!!!" at every single one of them. Except Joe. Joe walked around checking price tags until he found the least expensive tree on the lot. And the yearly lecture began:

     "I FOUND IT! I found the tree! It's ONLY THIRTY DOLLARS!" He hollered across the lot.

     Upon inspection, we discovered a tiny little tree, approximately 3 feet tall, leaning in a back corner. No matter what we said, Joe was not convinced. Spending even $30.00 for a tree that will be in use for a matter of weeks, shed all over the place, cause all sorts of mess, and be chucked out the front door shortly after Christmas, is completely illogical. It makes him crazy every year, that we spend any sort of money on a dead tree. We spent half an hour of listening to Lexi shriek "THIS is IT!!!!" at all the trees, while Joe shrieked "HOW MUCH???!!!!! NO." While the boy scouts that sell the trees followed my 13.5 yr old daughter around adoringly. Memories and stuff.
     We ended up with "William the tree", "Billy" for short, and the whimpers of a 9.5 yr old boy after he discovered that I donated an extra $5.00 to the Boy Scouts, to have the tree wrapped. And eleventy million reasons why that was a bad idea. Someday, I am going to hand that boy my checkbook and the bills, and I am sure he will make me wealthy. Meanwhile, I am not sure if we are more "Christmas Story" family, or "National Lampoons" family.

     Also this weekend, was Sunday School, and Christmas Eve Christmas Pageant practice. Kaila and Joe decided to sing in the kid's Angel Choir, while Lexi decided to be in the pageant. George followed along because he had to. When the head of Religious Ed announced "Who wants to be Mary?" Lexi jumped up and volunteered.
     "Now we need a Joseph!" and George bounced up "I will be Joseph!"

     "Okay. George will be Joseph!" agreed the Head of Religious Ed.

     "Ummmmm..... I am not so sure... I mean, shouldn't you at least have a TALLER Joseph?" I asked, thinking about my two squirmiest children front and center during Christmas Eve Mass. I had flash backs of the times Lexi had me in stitches at Christmas pageants past, and I wasn't too sure the two of them should do this together.

     "Nope! George volunteered first, so George will be Joseph!" Insisted the head of Religious Ed.

     "Now you have TWO Josephs, Mom!" George announced excitedly. Lexi is less than thrilled, to be seen with a husband who is half her size AND her brother. Lexi also decided she should wear the ice blue ball gown that was recently bequeathed to her sister and herself, by their Aunt Meghan. It was worn during a high school prom or ball or something, when Meghan and her sister were still in high school, years ago. "Lexi. Mary gave birth in a barn. She CERTAINLY was not wearing a ball gown, and you are not, either."

     Once we practiced the pageant a few times, it was time to get back to Sunday School. Yesterday was supposed to be one of those horribly uncomfortable days where we talk about Love and relationships etc. However, the 5th grade class was without a teacher, so Lexi brought them all into my class room. Where, there was a quick change of lesson plans, and we decided to decorate the dead tree that came with my classroom, and talk about Advent stuff. The best comment all morning was "I like to draw pictures of flying toast. And marshmallows. Can I put a flying toast picture and a marshmallow on your tree?" From one of the 5th graders. "Absolutely!" I told him. "You should probably make them kind of big, so that we can help cover the WHOLE tree, don't you think?" So, my little dead tree has flying toast, marshmallows, tinsel, a string of lights, paper chains and whatever else their imaginations cooked up. I completely love it. Best Sunday School ever!

     Also this weekend, the kids wrapped up their teacher Christmas gifts, their school Christmas gifts, and George acknowledged that he really was probably on the naughty list up in the North Pole.
     "My HEAD tells me 'Be good, George!' but, my body just never wants to listen! My head says "Don't do that, George!" but, my feet make me go do stuff." he explained. Last night, in a last minute attempt to get onto the good list, he cleaned his room after he went to bed, and even made my bed. I think Santa will probably take it into consideration....
    
     Also this weekend,  Bearded Man picked up his third deer from the guy who processed it for him. I didn't really think about the logistics of this, until I attempted to put groceries away, and discovered there was no room for anything in the freezers. Also, I am pretty sure he is driving around with the head of his deer in the back of his truck, as he decides what to do with it. I suppose it could have been worse. he could have had the entire thing stuffed, and stuck it in a corner someplace. Meanwhile, we continue to debate where the head will hang in the house. I pointed out the house full of plaster and lath, and lack of supportive wall studs, so, I think that will limit where the dead head can go to some extent. I suppose we will know more about it after it's stuffed and ready to be hung someplace. I think that takes a few months, so, we have time.

     All kidding aside, his Mother's funeral will be this Saturday, December 13th. Sadly, this will be only  5 days before what would have been her 75th Birthday. Please keep her family in your thoughts. Thank you.
    
    
    

Newsworthy

     For those relatives that read this: I think there will be a Funeral Service for Jasin's Mother Saturday, December 13. Not sure of the time yet.

     It has been rough on the family, coordinating everything from NY, while she is in Savannah, while also working around the holidays. I honestly stood in my kitchen making Thanksgiving Dinner, while reading the "Legal-eze" of the Funeral Home Contract to Jasin and his sister. It was surreal, to plan for the sad, while getting ready for a celebration.
     Kids excited for Christmas lights on the porch, while we decide who's house his Mother gets sent to. It was pointed out that WE had a mantle, so maybe she should be sent to OUR house. Think what you will, but, I vetoed that. I just can't wrap my head around parking Bearded Man's mother on the mantle, and explaining to the kids that Grandma is hanging out in the living room, while we decide what to do next. So, I think the Savannah funeral home is sending her to Jasin's sister for now. There may be a burial in the spring. I don't know that any concrete plans have been made for that yet. Because: holidays and stuff.

     Speaking of holidays, in spite of everything, Thanksgiving was one of the nicest days ever. Dinner was perfect, and the house was full of family. It was so so nice. I brined the turkey this year, and made my own homemade stuffing for the first time ever. Even though I completely love the Stove Top dressing, I always felt like something of a failure, for mot making my own. So, a sausage apple and pecan dressing was whipped up, and it was fabulous. The Earth Mother was able to save a little face, over dinner this year. Even Joe ate!

     Ah, Joseph. This has been mentioned on Facebook, but, I want to be "That Mom" and mention it here, too.
    
      The Sunday after Halloween, right after we arrived home from church, Joe began to talk about wanting to help hungry people. Especially kids. When Joe has an idea, or a thought that has his entire attention, he does not let it go. He paced around the living room, and climbed into my lap, and went on about what he wanted to do, to help. He just knew he NEEDED to. He wasn't completely sure HOW, though. I had recently read an article, in which it was suggested that change be collected for a month, and then donated to this charity online. I told Joe I would give him a quart canning jar, and he could collect change, and we could donate it someplace local. Then I threw it out on Facebook, asking for suggestions as to local places we could take it.
     For the last month, Joe scrounged for every coin he could find. In furniture, under furniture, my purse, bedrooms, my vehicle, sidewalks, parking lots. Everywhere. Kaila and Lexi threw in babysitting change and tooth fairy money, and everyone began throwing spare change in. It took Joe the entire month, but he even talked Bearded Man out of the jar of change on his dresser.
     It was decided that he would donate his money to the local food pantry around Thanksgiving. So, the day after, I contacted Mrs. Sweet, the lady that coordinates things for the food pantry, along with a small group of friends, and explained about Joe's change jar. We made arrangements to take it to her yesterday.
     Joe was completely unaware that this was anything exceptional. As far as he was concerned, this was something he needed and wanted to do, and so he did it. This was not anything out of the ordinary, or anything worthy of attention or even a "Thank you". He just wanted to help hungry people. Especially kids. His thought process being "Maybe if someone helps them now, they will grow up to not be hungry, and their kids won't be hungry either." He plans to keep collecting change, and to donate again next year, too.
     He even took his favorite soup, the soup that I buy specifically for him, the child who hates nearly everything, and donated it to the school food drive.

     Anyhow. Last night, I received a message from the editor of the local newspaper. Mrs. Sweet from the Food Pantry had been so touched by this, that she wondered if it might be mentioned in the newspaper. So, my permission was requested to run the story. Evidently, this has never happened before. No kid has just randomly up and decided to collect money to feed the poor, and donate it, and not been affiliated with an organization such as Scouts.
     Joe still has no idea why this is news worthy. He handed over the jar. We apologized for not knowing the exact amount in it, and I apologized that it was unwrapped, and Joe chatted with Mrs. Sweet about her dog, who was a smaller version of Buster, our dog. And then he got back into my truck, and we went home as if nothing had happened.

     There are no words, for how proud of my kid I am. In this world of so much emphasis on the bad, this was something truly good. Made even more so, because it wasn't done for anything other than the completely pure thoughts behind it. There was absolutely nothing in it for him, nor did he expect it. He honestly does not understand why this is thought to be exceptional.
And, that's all I have to say about that.

     Thanksgiving also brought yet another deer. Bearded Man took down a beautiful 8 point buck. I admired it before I told him he had zero access to the kitchen till the day after Thanksgiving. He decided to take this deer to a friend to be processed, and thought maybe he would have just the top of the skull and the rack mounted for the wall. We even decided on a few locations that it would look okay.
     He came back from dropping his prized buck off, and announced that the guy processing it had taken one look at this deer and announced it would be" a CRIME if Bearded Man did not have the entire head and half the shoulders mounted!! He was told that the EYELASHES on this deer were beyond compare! And the PERFECT BEARD!!!! LOOK at the BEARD on this deer! You cannot NOT mount this  deer down to the shoulders! It would just be a waste of the most perfect, symmetrical deer EVER in the whole wide darn WORLD!!!!" All caught up in it, Jasin began scouting the house, looking for the perfect place to hang half a deer on the wall, and looking up taxidermists.
     So. It seems that, there is the possibility that, within the next year or so, the most perfect deer EVER, with long eyelashes and a beard, may be hanging out with the Dick family, giving Mama Dick the heebie jeebies while I try to eat my toast under the gaze of his beautifully eye lashed dead eyes. We will probably have to name him at some point.
    

     Till next time!

    
    

Counting the Ups Instead of the Downs

Written between the last 2 days because, Holy Craziness!




     It is almost Thanksgiving again! Where the heck did the time go? It feels like we just began this year, as we get ready to close it out soon.

     So many ups and downs this year. Honestly, it is so much easier to think about the downs, but, for Thanksgiving, I am determined to focus on the ups. At the end of the day, we are blessed.

     Before I get much further, I should probably mention that Jasin's Mother passed away this morning. She lives in Savannah, Georgia, which is absolutely no place near Western New York, making this that much harder for the family. Not sure any funeral or memorial details at this time.
     The news of her sudden decline came right about the same time that Jasin discovered he will be laid off for the season, beginning this week. Happy Holidays, right? We got this.
     Anyhow, this is probably a good time to be extra nice to poor Bearded Man.

     Update on the Sunday School thing. My class consists of 2 12 year old girls. And George. Who LOVES older girls. Every Sunday, he sets out their drinks and snacks and chairs, and then pulls a chair right up between them. Then he gets all creepy.

     "I'm going to sit here and look at you."

     "I am still looking at you."

     "Can I snuggle you?"

     "Let me just get my chair closer to you."

     "Here. Let me open that for you."

     "Can I color with  you?"

     "I am going to sit here, so I can look at you better."

He usually gets banned to the music room with a bucket of Lego's, and Kaila. Where, he has taken to flicking the light switch while yelling "JESUS IS HERE!!!!!" Repeatedly.

     Also big in our lives currently, is Lexi's swimming. Lex has always been our water kid, and has seriously taken right to being on the school swim team. To her absolute thrill, she has just been moved up a level! There are always bathing suits hung up in the bathroom, as, she has swimming for gym at school three times weekly, and then swim practice several evenings weekly, and then swim meets most Saturday mornings. Lexi is completely happiest when immersed in her artwork, or swimming in the school pool. In regards to the swim team committees; I still have no idea what I am doing...

     Today is Parent Teacher Conference Day. I dread them. To date, there has never been a reason to dread them. But, I do. I never  know what Joe's teachers are going to say about him. Joe is definitely not like the rest of the kids. I wouldn't change a single thing about him... but I am never sure that the teachers feel the same way. You just never know what will come out of his mouth. It has ZERO filter. Recently, at the grocery store, we were in the checkout, and I hear a huge sigh come out of Joe.

     'Well. This is a waste of money."

      "What is, Joe?" Heeeeeeere we go. Again.

     "All of this. I have decided I am on a food strike."

     "Of course you are."

     "You just spent HOW MUCH MONEY on groceries?? It is a waste. Even if I WASN'T on a food strike, I probably wouldn't eat much more than the cereal anyway."

     "The rest of us aren't on a food strike, Joe."

     "I think I am going to try to not eat any food for a whole week."

     "Oh good. We were going to go out to lunch after this, so, that will save me some money."

     "Where are we going?"

     "Not sure. But it doesn't matter, since you aren't eating anyhow."

     And so the conversation goes. The food strike lasted about 10 minutes. Until we arrived home to see Bearded Man's dead deer hanging in the shed as we pulled in the driveway. Food strike was back on, and Lexi converted to Vegan ism on the spot.
     Also, I am once again, a lousy Earth Mother. Because, I absolutely am not okay with dead animals getting processed on my kitchen table. Show me the most grisly human wound on the planet, and I am your girl. Dead deer on the table, finding aortic arteries in my kitchen sink unexpectedly, and being dragged into assistance to stuff deer into pig intestines, and I am really not your girl. I pointed out repeatedly the complete lack of the same assistance during canning season, but, Bearded Man was conveniently deaf at that time.
     I don't know why it's so hard for me to deal with watching and assisting in the entire animal processing thing. It just is.
     Bearded Man cannot wait to go out on Thanksgiving and try to shoot another one.

  Update on how parent teacher conferences went last night:
    
     Honestly, they went well enough that, I wonder if I am not doing at least 2 of my kids a disservice for keeping them in that school, and not looking into an advanced placement classes somewhere. Because Lexi and Joe are doing everything the school can throw at them with zero effort at this point, and are frankly bored with the entire business. Lexi will be assisting with teaching, evidently, as, they have nothing more advanced to give her right now.  Kaila has offered to help them download her 7th and 8th grade learning apps onto their school iPads, for extra work. I don't know. I was told there are advanced classes in the middle/high school, so, we will maybe have to see what happens when they advance a few more grades.
     Lexi is a deceiving little Nerd, in that, she does not look, nor act like one. With her bright colors, glitter, sparkles, rhinestones and "HERE I AM, WORLD!!!" personality, she is more likely to be mistaken for a flake. Her biggest issue is floating off into her own dream world when she's bored. Joe's big hang up is his zero tolerance for what he considers things that do not require his time or thought. Do not ask him WHY a red light is there. EVERYONE KNOWS it is to make you stop and why, so, why are you wasting his time asking for him to write a detailed explanation??!!! Having to stop his brain to put things he does not consider to be important or pertinent, to come down a level to write these things is what is going to slow him down. He has no patience for it. His answers in school are short and to the point, and his aggravation with it is barely concealed. We had a discussion regarding this when I came home from the conferences last night. Joe just does not understand why the rest of us cannot think like he does. He spends hours following me around, throwing math and science questions at me. Something he has done since he was around three and a half years old. Not quite sure WHAT to do with my little Nerdlings! Any thoughts on this are appreciated, actually.

     Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Sorry about the choppiness of this Blog today. Count your blessings! Be Thankful for what you have. So many have so much less. And, throw in a prayer or two for Bearded Man and his family, if you are so inclined. Thank you!


    

    

Newbie Committee Person

     Yesterday George had his surgery follow up. We ended up seeing the Doctor's assistant, and the visit went along the lines of:

"We did a test you probably didn't even know we did, while doing your son's surgery."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yes. We were checking for reflux. I see he hasn't been taking his reflux medication."

"No, he hasn't. It tastes horrible, and he had a really hard time recovering the first few weeks. The screaming every morning before school, and the crying, and the trauma was too much. It was just one thing that needed to go. He has never exhibited any signs of reflux. Ever. He seems to have been fine since."

"Well. The tests showed he has no reflux."

"I thought they might reflect that."

"However, I need to educate you about it. I created these handouts. They are in color and everything, so parents can easily follow along."

"But, he has no reflux. You just said so."

"Well, his diet is probably awful. Most American children have a lousy diet."

"Actually, out of all my kids, he seems to be the healthiest eater... he's always digging for fruit and yogurt and veggies and fruit cups and things like that."

"Well, citrus fruit is probably not helping his reflux."

"He doesn't HAVE reflux! And, he doesn't like citrus fruit."

"Well, he probably eats healthy because he knows the other foods will cause pain."

"He's 4. He has no idea. He's never complained of pain, because he DOESN'T HAVE REFLUX!"
"Well, chocolate will do it too."

"He did bring home 5 pounds of candy but - "

"SEE?! BACK TO THE AMERICAN KID'S DIET!"

"-BUT my HUSBAND took all the kids' chocolate. He really didn't get much. He eats baloney at school, but, just discovered it 2 months ago, so, I KNOW that didn't cause his non existent reflux."

"Well, it's just foods like that, that cause your child pain, colds, ear infections."

"OR, his adenoids, because, since they came out, he's been FINE, because, as you said, he has no reflux."

"His reflux could be in remission."

"I am not going to win this, am I?"

"How is he sleeping? Any snoring?"

"No, he's been sleeping fine since the surgery."

"Actually," pipes up George, "I will probably snore tonight."

"There are pets in the house."

"Yes."

"Did you think this may be the cause of your son's problems?"

"No. He never had a reaction to the dogs or the cat. He was tested for allergies while in surgery. How did that turn out?"

"He has none."

"Then why?.... never mind."

Anyhow. George is fine. Clean bill of health and all that.


     Also in the household is Joe's new campaign. Joe came home from church the other day, and announced he wanted to help hungry kids. I suggested a change jar that we could donate around Thanksgiving. The rest of the kids jumped right on board that idea. Tooth Fairy money was thrown in, babysitting money was thrown in. I was amazed at my kids!
     The school also has a food drive this week. Joe took his favorite soup, that I buy just for him, off the shelf, so he could donate it. He wanted other people to have good foods, and not just what we didn't want that was on the shelf. (Which, to Joe, would pretty much be everything. But, I digress.)

     Also, on our plate currently, is Lexi's Swim Club. Lexi is half fish, and is completely happy when she is in the water. As part of the swim team, parents were informed that it was mandatory to sign up for 3 things related to the swim club to help out. Also posted were mandatory sign ups to help out at 2 out of 3 of the home meets. As a newbie, I took this for gospel, as did only about 5 other presumably new parents. So, according to an email I received yesterday, I am now on 2 committees related to the Swim Club, and signed up to do 50/50 raffles at 2 swim meets.  I have every intention of handing off the 50/50 obligations to Bearded Man and Kaila, truth be told. Because, I now need to plan Hospitality things and make ribbons. With people I only know vaguely. Anyhow, this promises to be entertaining at the very least. 

      Which brings us to the last order of business. I am thinking about going back to school. Next fall. To pursue my nursing degree to the next level. Which would mean no life for the next few years, and then working back up at the VA in Buffalo again. Which would shake up our schedules again, take me away from a lot of these extra curricular activities, and have me working holidays and weekends and overnight 12 hour shifts again. Which, if it was just me, would be completely wonderful. But, at graduation, I would have 3 teenagers, and maybe I should stick a little closer to home. As a friend pointed out: They are only young once! It would be so completely wonderful, if I could go back to school though. I have a few months to make up my mind.

     That's all the excitement around here! Till next time!
   
    

Soul Searching

     Halloween is in a few days. Think about this for a moment. Because, it means that exactly 12 hours after your porch light is off for the night, and your little monsters are tucked into bed, and all parents have thoughtfully consumed all the "Poisoned" chocolate in their kids' treat bags: The holiday season will have officially started.

     This year, I am so not ready. Usually I have a layaway started and odds n ends tucked away already. Nada. The other day, I DID leave work a few hours early, so I could drive for 2 hours and pick up a large box of Legos that someone was selling on an online garage sale site for a ridiculously small amount. So. We have Lego's for Christmas so far. I figure I have a few more weeks before the panic needs to officially set in. Honestly: I have not had the time. Every weekend seems so jam packed full of something or other. Once hunting season begins, I will have even less time to get it all done and figure out all the Sunday school schedules, as well. It'll  happen somehow. It always does. Mostly, this just means I will probably get not a little snappy with anyone who announces they are pretty much done with their shopping for now.

     Last week was Spirit Week at my children's school. My kids seemed to throw themselves into it more wholeheartedly than usual. Ending with this conversation:

     "Mom. I have a problem."

     "What's up, Joe?"

     "I traded spirits with Seth."

     "WHAT? Can  you repeat that, please?"

     "Seth and I traded spirits. It's not good."

Honestly. At this point, I began laughing so hard I couldn't breathe.

     "I don't understand why you're laughing, Mom. I miss my spirit."

HOWLING at this point.

     "I think it is making me sad, to have to deal with someone Else's spirit."

Tears.

     "I don't think we are trading our spirits back for at least another week."

      "STOP!!!" I begged, laughing so hard I could barely talk.

     "I wonder  how my spirit is doing? If it LIKES Seth, or if I should try to get it back early."

This conversation went on for another few minutes. It came out of nowhere, and my immediate reaction of laughter harder than I have laughed in months, was probably inappropriate.  I mentally wondered if I should look into an exorcist for my poor spirit-less kid. It was determined  during an assembly sometime during Spirit Week, by Joe and Seth, that Joe had more school spirit than Seth, which is highly unusual for both of them, so, somehow their spirits must have gotten switched around.
 
     Even now, as I type this, I am laughing so hard. Joe was planning to go to school and request from Seth that they switch back their spirits today.

     I never know what is going to come out of that child's mouth. Recently, Kaila saw me putting my shoes on, and asked if we were going somewhere. I said we were, and Joe proceeded to growl: "She knows too much. Now she must be eliminated."

     The other day, when leaving the store, one of the kids asked if we were going home now. I said we were. Only to hear Joe announce "The mission has been completed."

     I just never know. I hope all the time, that he never ever changes. Ever.

     I had a flash back to Joe at the age of 4 the other day, when George mussed softly that the clouds must probably be soft to the touch. At the same age, Joe was demanding to know everything I knew about clouds, and everything I DIDN'T know about clouds. At no point did he ever look at them dreamily and think they were soft. It's amazing, how different every single kid can be.

     I think I'm going to leave it at this today. Mostly because I am completely out of time to write much more. Also because, I needed a smile today, and just writing about Joe gave me one, and I don't want to mess with it. Happy Halloween!

Putting It Into Perspective

     My thoughts on Ebola.

     Yesterday, I had a patient in my office, who was worried almost to the point of panic about Ebola. He had just had a flu vaccine, and then freaked out, pointing out that flu and Ebola symptoms mimic each other at first. He had a lot of questions. To the point that, he actually came back, and wanted to discuss it further. I told him that I had patients and friends who had traveled to the other side of Africa on vacation, and they were fine. I had patients and friends that had traveled to Europe, Texas, Ohio, Atlanta, and all sorts of places, and they were fine. I told him he did not have Ebola, would not get Ebola, and that  he was going to be okay. I gave him the example of: Living in New York and being afraid of catching a cold, because he knew someone in Oregon with a cold. I told him he would be fine.
    
     Today, I was spoken to. I had offended a co worker who had recently travelled to one of the places I had mentioned. (As had 3 other people I knew.) Once again, I was in trouble at work. I didn't even bother to explain myself. Where I work, lots of people get offended over seemingly pointless things regularly. It wasn't worth the aggravation or energy. I was told not to talk about traveling patients anymore, because this co worker was seriously offended, and the patient had been upset. (It should be noted, the patient was upset about this before I spoke to him...)

     This worries me. In educating a patient, I offended someone.

     This is how we get mass panic. This is how we remain uneducated. This is how things get out of control in a moment.

     I would hold the exact same conversation all over again in a moment, and get in trouble all over again, too.

This patient I had yesterday made me think. He was worried that he had just had a flu shot, and would have a mild flu-like reaction, and how was he supposed to know the difference? If we had patients who had been all over the place, could we already be exposed? I assured him, he had not. He was fine. I had him sit with me, and we went over everything I could find regarding Ebola. Which, in case anyone was wondering, was precious little. We aren't even completely certain how it is transmitted. Or if we should be worried. Or if this could end up a non issue.
   If flu symptoms mimic early Ebola, what could this mean for our Emergency Rooms, once flu season hits, as masses of people who are not sure what's going on, and who listen to daily changing news reports regarding the transmission and treatment and precautions against this virus, panic and flood our health care system?
     If we need to worry about offending someone, while trying to reassure our patients, where on earth does this leave our ability to educate, reassure and try to hold back the panic?

     I think I worry more about the possibility of an entire health care system getting so overwhelmed with worried patients, and not having the ability to keep up with the flood, as we try to decide who is fine and who is not. As the nursing profession watches CDC staff wear special suits to see the people who have Ebola, while assuring us that a gown and gloves and face shield will work fine to protect us. And our families. As we watch the nursing profession take the fall for every possible wrong action.

     I watch the panic on social media. I watch the rolled eyes derision on social media. I listen to concerned patients, neighbors, friends. The discussion is everywhere. There are opinions, conspiracy theories, head in the sand people, and over reacting people.
     Mostly because it's something we know nothing about, but which could spread.

     I think though, that we have an advantage. Crisis and mass panic aside, we seem to be able to handle it better here in the US of A better than the third world areas that cannot. We know to control the exposure to the best of our ability. We know to quarantine immediately, if we do think we have a problem. Here in America, it is not family members and neighbors who are not adequately protected caring for these patients with bare hands and poor access to nutrition and medical needs. We have highly trained medical staff, with proper equipment, medicines, and around the clock access to everything we can possibly throw at this, to slow it down, prevent the spread and help get these people better.

     I only hope that someplace, the nursing profession that will largely deal with this, gets half the accolades deserved; as they enter into the unknown of this virus, putting themselves on the line, as they have criticism for not handling things properly. Doing so with very little knowledge to work with, as things progressed of late.

     So. My point to my patient yesterday was: people have travelled. People have been fine. We are pretty on top of and aware, thus far, of the extremely small exposure Americans have had as of yet. Just because someone travels to Texas, does not mean they were exposed to Ebola, because Texas had an Ebola patient. Or Africa. Or Atlanta, Ohio, Spain or anywhere else. My patient was as soothed as he was going to get, considering he had come in already in a panic about this. He was given educational materials, reassured, and sent on his way. Putting it into perspective seemed to help. Discussing things in comparison, such as the cold in Oregon not being contagious in New York, seemed to help.

     As a nurse, and a human being, I can only think that, we are doing the best we all can, with very little education regarding this, and the expectation that we will know what to say, how to deal with it all, how to keep everyone safe. And we had better have a 100% success rate, or be raked over the coals on every news and social media site on the planet.
    
     Offending people, is the least of my worries.

     

    

WHAT IF...????

     Just a quick lunch break post. Brought on by a horrifying Email I just read.

     Some Super Mom, who I, at some point, subscribed to receive emails about healthy foods for kids or something like that, sent an Email that had something along the lines of: Pack at home healthy lunches, and, a recent school project in which her child had to keep a food diary.

     O.M.G. This was panic inducing for me. WHAT IF MY kids had that project??!!!

      I would probably have the authorities on my doorstep. I would have to keep  my own diary of what the kids were actually OFFERED, and send it in with my child's food diary. It would look something like this, I imagine:

Joe:                                                  

Breakfast: Cereal with no milk.

Me:

Breakfast: Offered: Yogurt, fruit cups, apples, grapes, bananas, eggs, toast with homemade preserves, milk and OJ. Refuses to eat cereal with milk.

Joe:

Lunch: 2 graham crackers, an apple, a granola bar.

Me:

Lunch: Offered yogurt, apple sauce, assorted fresh fruits, baby carrots, raisins, hard boiled eggs,  veggie salad, celery with peanut butter, PB&J with homemade fruit preserves, cheese, baloney, nuts, bottled water, water in special BPA free bottles, fruit cups,  egg salad.

Joe:

Dinner: Nothing.

Me:

Dinner: Offered: Chili, (or) chicken, (or) steak, (or) beef roast, (or) pork chops, fresh steamed veggies, mashed potatoes, brown rice, apple sauce, fresh bread and butter, milk and/or water. Child burst into tears, announced I hated him, and stomped to bedroom complete with slamming door. Further, should we decided to do a personal hygiene journal next: Said child has decided he probably does not need a shower, as he will starve to death soon anyway. Heads up.

Kaila: Breakfast: Nothing

Me: Breakfast: See above entries.

Kaila: Lunch: 2 apples, granola bar

Me: See above entries

Kaila: Dinner: 2 pork chops. Nothing to drink

Me: See above entries.

Teacher, please note that once again, in reference to the personal hygiene module that is happening next: Showers were unavailable as it was this child's night to do the dishes, which took 2 hours, all the hot water, several breaks, threatening the life of her brother, tears, and a furious personal diary entry. Thank you.


Dear Franklinville School District,

     Please do not ever EVER do a food journal project.

Thank you,

Moriah Dick

But Have They Starved?

     Evidently, someone alerted my Mother in Law about my last Blog. Because, within a few hours of posting it: she called Bearded Man from her hospital bed, to tell him she has a recipe for spaghetti sauce that uses 28 ingredients. Bless you, Mole.
    
     While listening to Bearded Man's excitement over more of his Mama's unbeatable cooking, all I could think was: Joe's wife will never ever have this issue. Ever. She will be delighted  to be regaled with his tales of childhood near starvation, due to my cooking.
     I am not a gourmet cook, by any means, but, I'm pretty good, I think, by normal standards. Nobody HAS died, even after years of threatening to.

     To date: I have finished canning grape jam, and ended up with 20 pints of it. (the math here includes that this homemade goodness consists of exactly 42 cups of sugar and 28 cups of grapes. Eat up, kids.) Unfortunately, my kids only like Smucker's strawberry preserves. Nothing more, nothing less. I now have shelves of apple, peach and grape preserves and jam, and not a strawberry among them. So, now, I will have no chemicals, no preservatives, and no cavities, because no one will eat any of it. Problem solved.

     The household has been pretty intense lately. Poor George has caught every single bug that being exposed to the public school system during surgery recovery can throw at him. As I type this, he is at home from school - again - with yet another fever/headache/vomiting/lethargy bug. Which is probably something of a relief to the people at school who have to deal with his morning hysterics. I spent most of the weekend with him in my lap, sleeping. Also at home, are Kaila and Joe with a less horrible version of the bug.
   The fact that the household in general seems to hate everything that isn't ordered on the other end of the phone, (which is rare) alleviates the guilt that I plan to make chili for dinner tonight. The ill of the household may eat the oyster crackers. They wouldn't have eaten it even if they were all healthy.

     This past weekend, I decided to look at upgrading my vehicle. It still GOES, but, it has issues. As in: the ABS system does not work, the 4X4 doesn't work, the left side back door doesn't work, the speedometer doesn't work... anyhow, I thought I would just look, to see what's out there. I test drove a few things, looked at another few things, went to a few different dealerships, and decided there wasn't anything out there that I like better than my current vehicle, right now. Bearded Man is convinced I need a minivan. The dealers are convinced I need a minivan. Bearded Man has convinced the kids, that I need a minivan. Pretty much, I am the only person unconvinced that I need (want) a minivan. So, I decided to wait till spring.

    This past weekend, the kids and I took the dogs to our church for the blessing of the animals. I figure our little dears need as much as they can get. And if the Good Lord could just bless Buster the dog with permanent laryngitis, that would be great. Anyhow, we, and lots of other people, took the dogs to church. Which Turbo thought was the most amazing fun awesome thing EVER, as every person and dog in the whole wide world is a best friend, until proven otherwise. Buster is not so easily convinced, and as far as he's concerned, everyone is a mortal enemy, until proven otherwise. Blessing/Exorcism, potato/potahtoe. Anyhow, there is this really nice lady at our church, who LOVES to take pictures, and hang them up on a special board, as you walk in. Every single month, without fail, this person manages to take the most dreadful pictures of me that I ever thought possible, and posts them on her board. The DMV and their (probably specialty training in "DREADFUL PICTURES 101") have NOTHING on this nice lady at my church.
     Sure enough. In less than 24 hours, my kids, my dogs, and myself, were once again, posted on the church picture board. Every time I walk past it, all I can think is "It's a sin to be vain. This is a test. I will not care...... *whimper* OMG, it's even worse this month than LAST month!" Anyhow. The dogs are blessed, and I continue to be vain enough to shudder every time I walk past the church picture board. Honestly, this lady is the nicest person in the entire world, too. I am so going to hell.

     Before I go: Heads up to anyone living in or around Franklinville. Joe needs to sell popcorn for Cub Scouts. His goal is to sell $4,000. in popcorn, so he can earn himself a Tablet. You have been warned.
    

The Trauma of Canning Grapes

  Thursday, September 25


  We survived George's surgery! I dare any mother to take her child to a hospital for any sort of surgery, and not be a mess when your kid walks through the OR doors. There was an entire room full of mothers who were trying desperately to pretend they weren't weeping. It was the worst hour and a half ever.
     George didn't come out of it well, waking up and going right into one of his lyringospasams. It really freaked his PACU nurse out, and I was summoned from the waiting room. "Doctor said you are a nurse. WHAT IS THIS??!!! Has he done it before? His o2 sats are in the 50's! I might have to call a code in a minute here." is what I was greeted with.
     I had to explain this was the reason behind the surgery, and we were able to bring George out of it again.
  
     We began the morning with George standing on his hospital bed wearing his hospital gown, belting out the opening song to Lion King on top of his lungs, as he watched the sun come up, but we ended the day with a completely comatose kid. He slept for 20 hours. When he did rouse, he was completely lifeless and blank. It was terrifying, to see this kid of all kids, without his spark.
     He more than made up for it the next day. He was up at 5:20 am, and on his bike by 9:30 am. A week later, and, as I walked out the door to leave for work this morning, he was chasing Kaila out the front door with a stick, and was in the process of locking her out as I backed out of the driveway. I would say he's back to his usual want to hug him/want to beat him self again.

     We are now into the swing of the new school year. Week one: the kids had their shoes, socks, clothes, lunches, homework and backpacks ready to go the night before school. Dinner was either in the crock pot, or plans were made so that it would be ready no later than 5:30 every evening.We are in the middle of week 3, and the kids have their lunches semi made up, tell me they have their shoes, socks, clothes, backpacks and homework ready to go the night before school, and then scramble like crazy when they get up to get it all ready for school. Dinner has become whatever my imagination cooks up, and Joe will probably starve to death.
     My house is a complete mess, with the main focus being on the semi folded ever growing pile of laundry on and around the dining room table, under which is buried mail that I have yet to dig out, missing homework, school picture forms, toys, papers, missing library books and movies, and probably the Ark of the Covenant. It's pretty bad.

     Along with the start of the new school year, are the ever awesome Fund Raisers. For anyone reading this that is NOT from Franklinville, you need to understand that we are  a tiny little town essentially in the middle of nowhere. The kid to consumer base for sales ratio is not exactly huge. So far this year, within the last three weeks, my kids have come home with: Flower sales, Nuts and Candy sales, Candy bar sales, school pictures, and swim sign ups. I may have to move, as the pretty soon the neighbors will begin avoiding my kids, and take out a loan to finance the the fund raisers and other assorted fees associated with school. 3 weeks. We haven't even begun to unleash the hustling abilities demanded of our children yet. I apologize in advance, dear neighbors. As it is, we have to take the pickup truck to the school tonight to pick up and then deliver, 21 pots of Chrysanthemums. Thank you to those that purchased these mums. They are going toward sending my kid to Washington DC again.

Monday, September 30

I seriously have very little time lately. Sorry for the break in Blog here!


     At least one of my kids appreciates education. Joe has a life career mapped out that includes going to college for Geology, so that he may successfully own and run a diamond mine, to fund his large very private Alaskan property and his large pack of huskies. Thus far, his grades and extremely intelligent one liners and casual every day remarks indicate this is a very real possibility. Or, he will be a successful salesman. It could go anywhere at this point.
     
     George on the other hand, wants nothing to do with school. He hates it. Every part of it. Since his surgery, he cries every night before bed that he has to go to school, wakes up every morning crying that he has to go to school, refuses to get into poor Mrs. Brown's car (The wonderful friend who drives my kids to school every morning, God bless her.) and then clings to whichever sister marches him into school, refusing to let go until he is physically pried off, howling the entire time, by whichever adult happens to have the morning honors.

     Kaila does well, and is immersed in Middle School drama and adventures. By week 2 of school, there was already a complaint made to the school regarding another girl harassing her. I suspect it's going to be a long year.
 
     Lexi is Lexi. I don't think she is taken too seriously at school. She wears bright, fun, happy colors, lots of glitter, and lives in a dream world I desperately wish I could spend just one day visiting. She  has this fun cheery crazy personality like no other, and is seriously one of the smartest kids I know. I think her grades tend to surprise her teachers, because she puts almost no visible effort into school or homework, and is bored to death by most of it. She has said since she was 5, that she will be very rich and have a butler someday. I think it could be a possibility. She recently started on the school swim team, as she is at her absolute happiest when in the water. I think she'll have a good year this year!

     The Earth Mother has been busy. I had the BRILLIANT idea that we should take the kids apple picking Saturday morning. I justified this with the whole "Family Bonding, Memories, Time with the kids, Fun Adventures", mind set, but mostly I didn't feel like doing any housework.
     Off we went, on an hour's drive to pick apples. We decided on "only " 2 bushels, and then started out to the apple orchard, buckets in hand. There were lots of varieties, and we broke up to get all different kinds. The apple trees were full and plentiful, and, the entire thing took 10 minutes. 10 minutes. Seriously. It took longer to walk from the truck to the apple building. So. We decided to pick grapes, too. Grapes are good. My kids like grapes. This will be so nice!
     It took about 5 minutes to fill an extremely large basket full of grapes. Too many grapes, really, because they were all sour concord grapes. My kids do not like sour grapes. What the heck was I going to do with a million sour grapes? And, after all this preparation and driving, we were finished in less than half an hour.

     Once back home, I began peeling apples. I decided to make apple sauce to start with. That should use up lots of these apples. We had 4 bags and half a laundry basket full of them. Suddenly 2 bushels seemed like an endless amount of apples.
     After peeling, cutting and coring the endless amount of apples, I filled 2 pots with them and cinnamon. It had just taken most of the afternoon, and I still needed to cook them down into sauce and then can them. 12 Quarts of apple sauce, and most of the afternoon/evening later, I realized I had hardly made a dent in the apples. WTH?


     The next morning, we hauled the kids to church, because we need to be at least semi responsible adults, and because we have a class of two 12 year old girls that we have to teach religious ed to. And, once a month, we have to teach essentially Catholic Sex Ed. In all honesty, I would tell my own kids in a heartbeat, that they came from the stork if I could get away with it. Neither I nor the two 12 year old girls are enthusiastic about Sex Ed day. And this Sunday, only one girl showed up. It was me, her, and Bearded Man, who didn't want to listen to this anymore than I wanted to teach it.
     We hastily read through the chapter, and she happened to look up at an open book on the table, that a past Religious Ed student had written her name in. "Oh! I know her! She's 15 and pregnant!"

     I closed my book. I looked at her. I said: "Listen to me. I can sum up this entire book in a few sentences. DON'T have sex till you're married. Seriously. You are not going to find your soul mate any time in the next 6 years. Wait till you're older. Pregnancy. STD's. More responsibility that you can deal with. You don't need to do this. The church says not to do this. You have a whole world in front of you. Don't do it. And all those things the church says you shouldn't do? If you run across someone who DOES do those things, it is your obligation as a decent human being to treat them with kindness and respect. The Good Lord is going to judge everyone eventually. It's His job, not yours. You WILL be judged on how you treated your fellow human beings. Lesson Completed. Let's color stuff." Lesson One done. It's a long way till May. I should probably be fired.

     After church, the canning began again. I decided to start with apple preserves. Hours of labor later, and it didn't look like I had used any apples. I swear the little suckers were multiplying in front of me. They were everywhere. I needed a break, so, I started on the grapes, and decided to make grape jam.

     Have you ever made grape jam? My little sister wandered through the front door about halfway through the process. To make grape jam, you have to separate the pulp from the skin. It looks EXACTLY like a booger, slime and all, as it drips out of the skin. In looking into the bowl full of pulp, it looked exactly like the fish eggs in Finding Nemo, right before the bad fish ate them all.
     My sister looked at me and said "Ri. Why are you doing this. this is ridiculous. Look at this house. This mess. Your kitchen. Look at this! Are you CRAZY? LOOK at all these apples! And grapes!!! TWENTY FOUR CUPS OF SUGAR???? ARE YOU CRAZY??? THIS IS HEALTHY HOW??????"

     "There's no preservatives, Brianna! It's nourishing and fresh and has no chemicals and is GOOD for my FAMILY!!!! If there is an emergency, we will survive on peach and apple and grape jelly, Brianna!!! What will YOU be eating, huh?"

     "Your kids HATE it ALL, Moriah! They are all going to starve to death anyway!"

     "You want some when I'm done?"

     "Yeah! The stuffs awesome. Can I have some of your apple pie filling too, if you make it?"

     "Yeah."

     A whole weekend of canning later, and, I still have  two bushels of apples, and half those grapes still. Joe approves of the grape jam though, so there's that.

     Bearded Man tells me frequently that his mother canned every summer and fall. She canned everything but her kids, evidently. His Mother was also a stay at home mom. Bearded Man was thoughtful enough to call her and get some of her canning recipes for me, too. She's in the hospital now, so, he can't call her for more recipes right now, so  it's just me and the Bell Blue Book of Canning. So far so good!

   Anyhow, that's the craziness that is our household right now. Hopefully I can update this a little sooner next time!

Growing (Kids!) Pains

     What a week.

     I discovered this week that, while I am of the firm and sound opinion that surgery is fairly safe these days, and have some experience as a surgical floor nurse, it is absolutely not okay for my own kids.
     Not even the routine stuff.
     At all.

     Tuesday, The George and I made our way to the Pediatric ENT doctor, affiliated with Children's Hospital in Buffalo. I knew what was coming. I knew that George's adenoids were likely coming out.
     The doctor came into the room, requested that George remove himself from the Doctor's stool ("I had to try it out, because I am going to be a doctor." George informed the Doctor. ) and announced that, after looking at George's xrays, that his adenoids were grossly enlarged, the cause of his breathing issues, causing lyringospasms, and needed to come out asap.
     I nodded, and agreed, and set up an appointment to have them out on September 17th, and managed to let all the people I have to let know when I need time off, that, I was going to need more time off. Again. (Thank goodness they all like George. I am known as "George's Mom" in Buffalo anymore.)

     After the appointment, George announced he was starving and thirsty and that the only thing that would make him better was Timbits from Tim Horton's, and an orange juice. I figured he earned it, so, we went in search. At the drive - thru, his window came down, and the following took place:

  George:  "Hello? Hi! Can you hear me?"

  Drive Thru Voice: "Umm, hello?"

  Me:    "GEORGE! Shush! Let me order, okay?"

  George:   "My name's George!"

  Drive Thru Voice: "Ummm. Hi, George?"

   George: "I love you!"

   Drive Thru Voice:  "AWWWWWW!!!!!!!! Extra Timbits for George!!"

On the way home, I decided to go visit my Dad. He hasn't been too well, and there really isn't too much more that can be done for him. He is in and out of the hospital a lot these days.

    My Dad's skin color is gray, he has circles under his eyes, and he really is unable to walk much, due to cardiac problems. He looked at me and said

     "Ri. I'm on my way out. My heart just can't take much more, and there isn't much they can do for me now. Don't know when it will happen, but, I'm ready to go. This is no quality of life."

What do you say to that?

     This week also brought the first day of school. Including the First Day for my Last Kid. Where did all the time go?

     George announced that he probably shouldn't go. His brother and sisters had told him he wouldn't be allowed to go to the gym. "I'm not a baby, and I'm not stupid! Why are they treating me like I am? I should be allowed to go to the gym. This is NOT going to be any fun."
     The morning of the first day dawned, and George really wanted no part of this. "I shouldn't go. The people are going to want me to listen to them, and I don't like to listen to people."
     I assured him it would be fine. His first day didn't start until 10 am, but we drove the rest of the kids to school and walked them in. I was FINE. FINE! All morning, we were fine. I marched them into school like I always do, and we were walking down a hallway, and the kids were calling to long lost friends, and Lexi was completely fuming over the news that Joe's room was directly across from her classroom, and this was NOT acceptable, and suddenly I was getting all weepy. Out of nowhere. Didn't see that coming at all.

     George and I had a few errands to run before Pre-K started, and, on the way to the school, the horrible thought occurred to me that: This was it. The very last time I would have George or any kid alone to myself, while the big kids were at school. This was the last ride I would take with my baby and that  my baby was still  all mine. Once I hit the school, I would have a Big Kid, and have to share him, and there would no longer be any kids at home during the day, or little ones running around the house. Bring on the waterworks. Not gonna lie. I drove around the biggest block I could find, to extend that ride a little. It took the first hour of Pre-K for me to stop getting all teary. He didn't know, of course. On the way in, his hand found mine, and I heard "Mama? Will you carry me in?"
     "No buddy. You can do it, and you are going to be just fine. You can hold my hand though."
Because, sometimes, you just have to let them stand on their own two feet.

     This morning, after hauling him out of bed against his will, and spending 15 minutes snuggling with him to wake him up, it was "Mama? I don't think I should go to Pre-K. I am not old enough. It is for 5 year olds, and I'm only 4. I will go next year. Make Daddy go to work at night again and stay home with me. Or you can stay home, and work at night, and snuggle me. That will be good. Pleeeeaaaassseee Mama?" Lord.

     I am completely aware that he will be fine. He will survive just like the rest of the kids did. I am also aware that I will, as well. But, I feel like this was a pretty big life change, with the realization that there really are no little ones at home anymore. I think too, that worrying about George's breathing problems and surgery and my Dad really added to the whole Moriah Mess.

     I'm ready to be done with this week. I have been too busy and weighed down with all the heavy stuff to go to Zumba, go walking, or even care what I ate.

     Life goes on,  however! And, in all honesty, Religious Ed starts this Sunday, (you know, in 2 days?) and, I am not nearly as prepared as I wanted to be. It was decided that the 8th graders should have Religious Education at one of our Sister Churches, so, my class now consists of 2 kids. Neither belonging to me. Now that my kid is no longer in my class, this has created something of a logistical nightmare. I now have 2 children in Religious Ed, and 2 not in Religious Ed, that will need to be delt with in some manner for an hour and a half for 24 Sundays, almost 20 miles from home. This does NOT include getting home in order to turn around two hours later to drive BACK to our church to get Kaila off to the other church, and then come home again, to to pick her up again in a few more hours. Religious Education has just effectively caused at least 100 miles of driving every Sunday. The first of my children to announce they have decided to become another religion, or, atheist, will probably be beaten soundly.

     That is life in our household this week. I did meet a new neighbor! She came over to introduce herself, after we discovered that her daughter is Kaila's age, and in the same classes as her, and they just moved down the street from us! (The excitement here is HUGE. Kaila really has very few friends, and pickings are pretty slim in our town. She was recently heartbroken when her BFF from out of state would have nothing to do with her on her summer trip to NY. When they DID get together, my poor daughter was regaled with stories of another local girl who hates Kaila, and is the daughter of this child's Uncle's girlfriend. Every rotten thing this other kid had said was repeated for the entire day, and in great, excruciating detail,  before Kaila was informed by her ex bff that they all felt it was better to keep the peace with a possible new cousin, rather than an old friend, thus, she probably wasn't going to be spoken to much anymore, if ever again, soooo, sorry?) The relief that Kaila has found a new friend  was huge. My poor kid really needed someone. The new friend's mother wandered around the house, and announced that she used to be a Home Stager, and that she really liked how I had it decorated. (Score one for a for-once clean house!!!!!) She hesitated and finally said "Do you mind a few pointers about your kitchen...?" And I decided I probably liked her.

     And that is what's going on in the household this week. There was also an ER trip for Bearded Man, who will live, but, still, this was definatly the week for craziness. Back to working out tomorrow. I don't have it in me to be miserable for very long. Have a great weekend!

Bearded Man has no Tolerance for the Earth Mother

     So much but not much has happened since the Peach Preserves debacle. I still haven't gotten out to pick nor preserve anything further at this time. I did, however, make my own homemade powdered laundry soap. I actually loved it, and the recipe made enough to last for at least 47 years, and my whites seemed white again.
     But then, I arrived home from Zumba the other night, to see Bearded Man storming around his shed. His eyes locked on me, and I was informed through gritted teeth exactly what he thought of my latest concoction. Evidently it had not dissolved, and the hoses in the washer were clogged. And the laundry room was flooded. And the full sized dryer is stacked on the full sized washer, and the washer needed to be dismantled, in order to clear the hoses.
     Another homemade failure. Ah well. So nice I have a (disgruntled miserable) repair man kicking around the house, and didn't have to pay for a service to come and fix it. So, there is that.

     Since the last post, I was in my first ever race! A 5k. It was suggested by my lunchtime walking partner, Kim, that I join with some people from work. Some of my Zumba friends were going to be there, too. No one I knew planned to actually run; it was going to be a fun time and everyone was going to walk the race.
     Kim and I ran at least half of that race! You have no idea how absolutely proud of myself I am. For me, this was HUGE! And; I didn't die! It was, honestly, one of the most fun times I have had in a long time.
     After the race, I was completely covered with color, and my face was almost black, I called my Dad, who was only a few miles away, in the hospital again. I told him I was in the area,  but covered with all this color. He informed me I needed to get right over, because he wanted to see. I marched through the VA completely covered, and in the sincere hope I didn't run into anyone I knew, as I wasn't entirely sure I wouldn't get into trouble for being an employee and being in the hospital in such condition.
     I only saw one doctor who knew me, but, he hesitated, because I don't think he was completely sure it was me. In the end, it made my Dad happy, so it was worth it.

     I am happy to report, that the house is pretty much painted! Except for a few touch ups and one cover up, it's done, and my twinkle lights went back up around the front door the other day. The front door has been a bone of contention... I decided it needs to be yellow. The house is a deep blue/teal color, and the door would be perfect as an autumn yellow.
  
     It became a thing. We would separately ask various neighbors what they thought of a yellow door. It would go something along the lines of:

Me: What do you think of the house?? I think it would be just about perfect, if I painted the door a nice autumn yellow. Wouldn't that look beautiful? I mean, just LOOK at the Black Eyed Susans in the front garden - they look just wonderful with that color, don't you think?"

Whichever neighbor standing there staring at my house: Oh yes! Yellow. Very nice! You are right! Perfect!

Bearded Man: House is pretty much done. She wants a yellow door. It's gonna look bad. I said 'no' I mean, A YELLOW DOOR??? What the hell?

Neighbor nodding with a shudder: I agree. No yellow. What is she thinking? Ruin everything.

It's all in the presentation, evidently.

     It was decided that, if I want a yellow door, I need to go buy the paint and paint it myself. So, that's the plan. I think it will look perfect. And so will my half of the neighbors. I would like to point out here, that, one of the neighbors on Bearded Man's side spent approximately 5 years painting his truck, motorcycle, 4 wheeler, RC cars and everything he could get his hands on, blue and yellow. I think he just agreed with Jasin because Jasin lets him borrow tools sometimes.

     School starts next week for all 4 of my kids. For the first time in over 13 years, the house will be kid free for the day. And, for the first time in as many years, I work a Monday through Friday day job, and am unable to take advantage of that.
     It always makes me sad to see the kids off to school. It heralds back the crazy mornings, the frantic searches for shoes/socks/homework/clothes/book bags/lunch boxes, the nagging to get them dressed/fed/put together/hurry up/make your lunch, the papers/homework/fund raisers/misplaced important stuff. This year we get to listen to trumpet and flute practice, as Lexi gets to start band. There is the nightly nagging to do homework/find pencils/crayons/"OMG, YOU HAVE A PROJECT DUE TOMORROW, AND YOU ARE TELLING ME AT BEDTIME????!!!!!!!!!"
     There is band and chorus concerts/school play/and practice/Cub Scouts/Swim Team/School functions/meet the teacher/parent teacher conferences/remember to send in snacks for weekly and holiday consumption/fundraisers for assorted reasons. And at least half a forest full of papers that are dragged home every year.
     Also this year, for the first time ever, the Pre-K kids will be spending a full day at school, instead of the traditional half day. After which, my kids have to walk half a mile back home through heat/cold/rain/snow/slush/mud/sleet/wind. And it just makes me sad to think about it. The other 3 were usually driven back and forth in bad weather, after a few hours at school, which completely exhausted them. Poor George.
     We have a plan in place, to try and make sure everything is organized before bed, to help with the morning craziness. I give it 2 weeks, before I am frantically running around the house looking for shoes that we will find in the back yard in the pouring rain, as I run late for work, because I was too tired the night before, to have the kids get all their things together for school before bedtime.
     Only 14 more years of this to go! And, can you believe it? Kaila graduates in only 5 years!
  
     All this adds to the need to work off the stress through working out. Yesterday, I skipped Zumba, because I hurt my leg. I decided to snuggle into my chair with a book and just chill. The guy with the pickup truck with a chest freezer in the back full of meat stopped by again. Usually I tell him "No" and that's the end of it. This time, Bearded Man was home, so I told him he could deal with it. The pickup truck meat guy does not like to take "No" for an answer, and I feel like his whole family is going to starve to death and he will end up on the streets if I don't buy meat off  of his pickup truck. 10 minutes later, Joe comes running in excitedly. "MOM! Dad needs you outside RIGHT NOW! The guy has all this meat spread out on his tailgate for ONLY THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY NINE DOLLARS! AND he is giving us FREE sausage and hash browns!!! GOURMET hash browns!!! Dad needs you outside QUICK!"

Insert inappropriate language here.

     I went out, listened to the spiel, and nicely told him "No." I was in the middle of a book in which an entire family had just been murdered by a disgruntled person, and, the look that man gave me at that point made me think of the guy that had just murdered the family in my book (with a knife, in case you were wondering. The mom lived, as did one of the sons, and it was depressing and awful, and I wish I hadn't read it.) Anyhow, I told the guy we weren't going to buy any meat today, but thanks anyway.
     At which point he began to try to hire Bearded Man to sell meat out of  his pickup truck, too. He announced that HUNDREDS of dollars could be made EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!! I rolled my eyes and went back in the house.
     "MOM!!! MOM! Dad said the guy has a SPECIAL DEAL FOR US!!!! 12 FROZEN ITALIAN CHICKEN BREAST AND 5 POUNDS OF SAUSAGE FOR ONLY FORTY DOLLARS!!" Yells Joe, coming through the door.
     'Tell you father if he wants meat from the tailgate of some strange guy's truck, he can buy it himself." I mumbled grouchily (HELLO? READING here! Do not bug me when I am reading!!!These people had JUST GOTTEN MURDERED!!!)

     At which point Joe went back outside and repeated what I had just said verbatim to the strange guy selling meat off his tailgate.
     At which point Jasin came in and repeated the deal Joe had just been in for.
     At which point I snapped that I could buy chicken breast fresh at the store, and a three dollar bottle of Italian dressing, and do the same damn thing for twelve dollars, and it would be more chicken, but if you want to buy it, then go right ahead, I am NOT coming back outside to rescue you and be the bad guy again.
     At which point He went back outside and probably told the guy his wife was mean, and the guy probably nodded in sympathy, packed up his tailgate, and went elsewhere to make hundreds of dollars.
     This is why we don't skip Zumba ever ever again.

Poor Bearded Man. I am pretty sure he misses second shift. I think I make him crazy.

     Till next time!

Why I Failed as an Earth Mother: A Pictoral.

Bearded Man.

 Pictured above, is Bearded Man's dream property. His constant desire to live off the land and be self sufficient and prepared for any emergency created by Man or the Good Lord tends to be problematic sometimes. He pictures a simpler way of life, which often ends up in: Me ending up not unlike an Amish Housewife.

                    In this persuit, we went out and bought peaches. Bearded Man was so excited, that he went and purchased a canner and several canning jars. We were going to can EVERYTHING. 

                     


                           Bearded Man's dream pantry.

   



                 Funny thing about peaches. Their shelf life is very short. This (not Amish) working woman who is responsible for these peaches did not have a lot of time to can them. The peaches brought along their special friends, the fruit flies. Who brought every single friend and family they could find, and then had a big party, inviting every fruit fly in the neighborhood. I hate my kitchen, but the fruit flies LOVED it.

                        On the only evening after work that I had available, I had to deal with all 7000 peaches (give or take a few.) I don't think I like peaches anymore. I don't like to peel them, chop them, pry the stupid pit out, deal with peach juice running all over the place, nor their friends, the fruit flies.

                           After cussing through an entire box of peaches, while Bearded Man napped on the couch, it was time to throw them into the pot. In glancing at the directions, I was horrified at the vast amount of sugar the "Bell Blue Blook of Canning" called for. 21 cups, to be exact. Whatever. I dumped it in. And it didn't fit. So, I stomped through the kitchen and dug out a bigger pot.

                           It did not fit either. I decided I hate canning, and that it is not appropriate for working Moms who have all these kids and things that need to be done, and then began thinking about all the things that needed to be done, and became even madder at the peaches. Out came the next biggest pot, which fit 12 cups of peaches and 21 cups of sugar and 10 tbs of pectin, or something like that.
                           As it all simmered and did it's thing, I could only wonder how this was keeping my family healthy etc. Because, at this point, all this homemade goodness, fruit of my labor, nourishing yada yada yada peach slop was pretty much just:

 

 

And I still have to drag the kids out and pick 4 million pounds of blueberries. To make blueberry candy preserves.

 

As I ladled the sugar with peaches into the jars, and attempted to put the lids on without burning myself on the jars, one of them slipped. Right off the table, and proceded to coat my kitchen, myself, my scrubs and my apron in boiling sugar. Which is the equivelent of:

 

             At this point, I realized I could not get to my sink to clean the miserable peach sticky mess up, because it was full of dishes to wash the peaches, peel the peaches, chop the peaches, several different sticky pots that weren't big enough to hold the peaches.

 

                              Below, find a "Selfie" of my reaction.

      

                                      This is all I wanted. Like, ever ever again. I am a failure as an Earth Mother, I actively wanted to throw the entire pot of sugar with peaches at the sleeping man on the couch, who will never ever be able to live off the land or be self sufficient if I decide to be an alcoholic and run off to a beach someplace to live.
             

                                    Pretty much, I don't want to spend every single spare moment of the summer evenings and weekends canning. I would really  like to have this:

 

 

                                  So I can do more of this.